


we wear our bruises like watermarks

by januarys



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 22:00:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/januarys/pseuds/januarys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slight ME3 spoilers. After Thessia, the Normandy is quiet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we wear our bruises like watermarks

**Author's Note:**

> I finished replaying the game (again x 1284387549) and the love Kaidan has for Shepard is _insane_. Thessia was really hard hitting, it opened up a softer side to Shepard that isn't really seen that much. To be honest, I just wanted Kaidan and Shep cuddles. I hope this isn't too sweet for you all.

The Normandy is quiet after Thessia.

Kaidan is used to the sound of movement, of the crew puttering around the deck, EDI’s voice filtering through the rooms,  _anything_. Thessia leaves a void throughout the ship, as though the reality of this war has finally hit home. Even the thrum of the ship’s engines seems quieter than usual.

He thinks back to carnage that became the very air that entered his lungs, the alien roar of the Reaper as it tore through the buildings they were nothing, the fear that settled into his bones, and  _there are moments in my life I wish I could forget,_

asari littered over the ground like they were rag dolls,

Liara’s desperate pleas to save her home,

and Shepard pressing forward, Shepard taking out the enemy with a well-aimed headshot, Shepard’s defeated silhouette in the burning Thessian sunset as her hope was taken from her in the form of a Cerberus gunship—

The migraine that follows his train of thoughts is almost a welcome relief to his minds contemplation. His bunk in the crew quarters feels as though it’s closing in on him and he falls into the darkness of his exhaustion.

*

Kaidan wakes up a few hours later, the remnants of his migraine nothing but consistent pressure against his skull. Not entirely comfortable but easy enough to deal with. He takes a deep breath as Thessia rages his thoughts again and decides to leave the quarters, silent despite the number that reside within.

He’s not used to the silence. It’s unsettling.

Familiarity leads him to the starboard deck, the view of an infinite galaxy something of a crutch to him now, his own private Idaho.

He stops in his tracks when he sees Shepard occupying the edge of the sofa before the endless void.

She doesn’t turn around when he enters, though she shifts in her position slightly. Her posture becomes more rigid, a defensive stance, and the loose hands that rested on her knees clench swiftly into fists.

Kaidan takes a breath of the cool air, feels the tension in his veins disappear at the sight of her, the warmth that pools in his chest sure reminder that everything he feels for her is true. He approaches her slowly, taking note of the loose clothing that hangs from her small frame, the way her long red hair falls down her back in damp waves, and when Kaidan breathes he can smell the scent of the earth after the rain.

He’s a romantic, what else can be said.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

His voice is rough from disuse, from his shouting on Thessia, and he kneels down next to her, places his hand over her closest one and squeezes gently. Shepard doesn’t take her eyes off of the sky before her, and the shine in her eyes isn’t from the stars.

She trembles slightly in her position, and she shifts her head so her hair hangs over her eyes. Kaidan grips her hand tighter.

“It’s my fault, Kaidan. It’s my damn fault.”

Her voice sounds on the verge of breaking, and it’s all he can do to sit beside her and cradle her hands, an offer of support, a gesture of comfort. She takes a ragged sigh and falls into his side, head nestled on his shoulder, her damp hair tickling his skin. The ship is quiet around them.

“I should have prepared better. D-damn it, I could have killed the bastard back on the Citadel. It’s my fault. It’s all on me.”

They watch the galaxy pass by.

“Should, could, but didn’t.”

Shepard backs off from his shoulder, watches him with a steady gaze. He holds the gaze back, almost gets lost in those endless green eyes, and pulls himself back to reality. She bites her lip.

“Y-you didn’t hear the frequency, Kaidan. You didn’t hear those people begging for my help, the hope in their voices, the fear, the silence…”

Kaidan releases his hand, brings his arm around her and cards his fingers through her damp hair, the scent overpowering him.  He rests her head under his chin, pulls her body closer and presses his lips to the top of her head. A soft sob breaks his heart.

“H-how the hell am I meant to save the galaxy when I can't even give Liara hope?”

Shepard finds a grip on his shirt and buries her face into the material. He holds her tighter, rests his cheek against her damp hair and she lets it all out. They stay like that awhile, the soft sounds of Shepard’s sobs echoing throughout the deck. The stars glisten before them, betraying the fact that a war rages on beyond them, within the confines of their riviere.

Her sobs settle to heavy breaths after a few moments, before she’s still against his chest. His fingers card further into her hair, dance down the strands to where they end. He can feel his heartbeat against his chest, pours his being into hoping that she can feel it too. His migraine is a forgotten memory.

Kaidan tears his lips from her head and Shepard looks up at him, half lidded eyes and brunette strands a brilliant contrast against her pale skin. He brushes them away and cups her cheek. She leans into his touch.

“You can’t give up now. Not now. Not after everything you’ve done. You have everyone with you, and you always will. You have me, Shepard. I’m not letting you go through this alone. Not again. I’m here now, I’m here.”

He then hooks a hand underneath her knees; manoeuvre's her body so that she folds into him. Shepard links her hands around his neck, rests her head against his collar and holds onto him like a lifeline, a sweet return. He cradles her, just like those hours before Ilos. They breathe in harmony for a while, her scent the only things in his senses, her skin the only thing he knows.

“That’s enough then,” she whispers softly, warm breath against his collar and a tingle down his spine, “that’s all I need.”

The ship thrums steadily in the background.


End file.
